Time and Tide
by Tuxedo Elf
Summary: The young prince Gil-galad is upset - Erestor seeks him out and offers some words of wisdom. Gen, one-shot.


Title: Time and Tide

Author: Tuxedo Elf

Rating: G

Beta: Eni

Characters: Rodnor (Gil-galad), Erestor

Summary: The young prince is upset so Erestor offers some words of wisdom.

Notes: For [info]keiliss. I've decided to use Gil-galad's original name rather than Ereinion.

News of the incident had reached him swiftly, as news tended to do in so small a place. He had immediately dropped what he was doing – quite literally as it happened, the papers falling from his hands in his surprise – and rushed to put things to rights. He was the one the usually called on when there was trouble with Círdan's ward; though the Lord of Balar treated Rodnor as one of the family, Erestor, being from Rodnor's childhood home of Nargothrond, could often relate more easily to the youth. Originally, Erestor's role here had been that of ambassador, but over time he had become an unofficial guardian to the Prince as well.

Though he had not told anyone where he was going, Erestor knew where the young prince could be found. It was always the same when he was troubled and the predictability was comforting, even if nothing else was.

Away from the tall buildings and white sands he went, along to the rocky path that led to the Shards – a length of treacherous rocks that were spread widely about this particular stretch of coastline, rising above the water and splitting the waves as they crashed upon them. It was a beautiful and deadly spot and one that the Prince always favoured.

There Erestor found him, standing on the last flat rock that was still a part of the isle. From thereon the sea claimed a wide stretch before the Shards began to rise up out of the waters. Rooted deep in the seabed, they nonetheless towered high above the mainland.

Rodnor was staring out at the crashing waves, his hair loose and flying freely in the wind, and though Erestor could not see his face, he was quite sure he wore a troubled expression.

"Rodnor," he called as he approached, not wanting to startle him. The youth's shoulders sagged in response and he knew he had been heard. "I thought I would find you here."

"You always say that," Rodnor replied snappishly, not bothering to turn around. "It is tiresome. Can you not just leave me be?"

"Perhaps," Erestor conceded. "Yet I always say so because it is always the case. I wonder if you truly wish to be left alone when you flee to such an obvious spot." To that, Rodnor had no response, so Erestor pressed on. "I hear you were somewhat… unruly… on the training fields today." He was not one to dance around an issue, or waste time coming to the point.

Rodnor snorted rudely. "That trainer is a fool. He thinks himself invincible and is as arrogant as the day is long."

Erestor suppressed a chuckle, since the statement was not without truth. However, this was not the time for that. "You threw your sword at him: that could have had serious consequences."

"It was a training sword, as old and as blunt as he," came the unimpressed reply. "I would be surprised if it could cut butter."

Again, Erestor only barely managed not to laugh. "Be that as it may, you cannot act in such a manner. You are supposed be learning the ways of a King and a warrior… those ways include dedication to your tasks and a high level of personal discipline."

All of a sudden, Rodnor turned to face him, eyes blazing in anger. "How am I supposed to lead a people I do not know? I have not been amongst them since I was a child!" He clenched his fists in his rage. "I fail to see why I was sent here! I can learn nothing of my people in this place! The elves here are too different from those they want me to lead - I hate it!"

"You hate it because it is so different?" Erestor asked quietly, making sure to keep his own voice low and calm.

"Yes! I was born in a Noldorin city! I have no place here!"

"Interesting," Erestor mused, unfazed by the angry shouting. "And yet… when troubled you flee to the most different place of all. Why is that, I wonder?"

Again, Rodnor had no reply. He turned his gaze back to the sea, which had now become far rougher than they had been just minutes ago and the clouds overhead were turning grey. A storm was brewing, as though the weather had agreed to match his grim mood.

Erestor stepped a little closer, making sure he could be heard. "I believe it is because *you* are different. By coming here you are set apart from your family and so from the shadows that are always cast over them. You may not understand yet, but in time you will come to do so as you grow and change and learn."

"I do not feel as though I am learning anything here. I feel like I am just waiting, my whole life on hold until I become whatever the Valar wish me to be."

"I can see how it might seem that way," Erestor replied, "yet it is not so." He gestured towards the rolling waves. "Look... there at the sea. Each day the tide comes in and goes out again, twice each day without fail. We see it as predictable, steady, unchanging. Though, in fact, that is not the case. Each day, the moving waters change the shoreline just a little. So little that day to day you do not even notice. Yet eventually it all amounts to a great change. It is not unlike you - you are the shores and you are slowly being shaped by time and tide."

"To what end?" Rodnor asked despondently. "To be a tool of the Valar, just another warrior to do their bidding? Is that reason enough to endure such isolation?"

"You are not alone," Erestor reminded him firmly. "There are many here who support both you and Lord Círdan despite the differences between your peoples."

Above them a sudden flash of lightning split the sky, illuminating the sea almost eerily for just an instant. A moment later a roll of thunder moved noisily across the grey sky, though it was unheeded by those on the shoreline.

"Perhaps, though support is not the same as knowing," Rodnor argued. "I may not be alone, but I am lonely." He looked up at the dark sky as the first drops of rain began to fall. "I have no quarrel with the Telerin Elves and they have treated me kindly since I came here, but they do not know me, nor understand me. I am unlike them, even after living here for decades. There is no one I can talk to or confide in."

Erestor was silent for a moment before resting his hand on Rodnor's shoulder. Though he could not completely understand what the young Elf was going through, he did have some insight into the burden of responsibilities.

"There is one… an already old Elf who has seen too much and not done quite enough, but who is willing to lend an ear and try to understand. There is me."

END


End file.
